The Fire Within
991 Words
The courtyard was alive with heat.
Sunlight spilled down on the palace training grounds as warriors clashed, blades sang, and dust rose like smoke. The King’s elite were preparing for war — but Raina didn’t know against whom yet. Only that something was coming. Something terrible.
And this time, she refused to be weak when it arrived.
Her sword trembled in her hands. She adjusted her grip. Her fingers were calloused now — a small, bitter trophy of her daily training.
The King watched her from across the field, arms crossed, silent as always. He never pushed her. Never rushed her. But his presence alone forced her to rise.
Sweat dripped from her brow. Her muscles burned. But she didn’t stop.
“Again,” she muttered, lifting the sword.
The target stood tall and unyielding, just like every man who had ever told her she couldn’t fight. Couldn’t lead. Couldn’t be more than what fate dictated.
Her wolf snarled within her.
She swung — harder. Faster. Over and over.
Until the straw dummy split clean in two.
Applause broke out. Not from the King. Not from the soldiers. But from someone she didn’t recognize.
A woman stood at the edge of the courtyard, cloaked in green with a face that was half-shadow, half-smile.
“You strike like someone who’s lived through betrayal,” the woman said. “And survived it.”
Raina didn’t answer. Her chest heaved with effort.
“Who are you?” she asked.
The woman’s eyes glowed faintly. “Someone who remembers what it felt like to bleed and still be told to kneel.”
Then, just as quickly as she came, the stranger vanished into the crowd.
Later that evening, Raina sat in the palace garden alone, soaking her hands in a bowl of cool water. The sword had opened a blister across her palm.
“Don’t forget you’re still healing,” came the King’s voice behind her.
“I don’t want to heal,” she muttered. “I want to burn.”
The King sat beside her, quiet. The scent of cedar and storm clung to him like always.
“Fire is useful,” he said. “But left unchecked, it consumes the one who holds it.”
She met his gaze.
“Then teach me how to wield it.”
The next morning, her lessons changed.
He no longer handed her blades. Instead, he brought her scrolls — old, cracked parchments filled with runes, history, prophecy.
“You are Lunaris-born,” he explained. “Your blood is ancient. It carries more than just wolf — it carries Moonfire.”
Raina stared at the markings. “I don’t understand any of this.”
“You will,” he said. “You must.”
Days passed. Then weeks.
Each one layered with combat, meditation, ancient lore, and moments of unbearable quiet between her and the King — moments that felt like the edge of something neither of them dared cross.
But it was growing.
Like embers buried beneath ash.
One night, the nightmares returned.
She woke in a cold sweat, heart racing, teeth clenched.
In her dream, Kael had returned. Not with cruelty — but with a smile. The one he used to give her when they were young. When she believed he loved her. When he whispered promises under the stars.
“You belong to me,” dream-Kael had said. “You always did.”
She screamed herself awake.
Then the door opened.
And the King was there.
He didn’t ask what happened. He didn’t speak at all. Just sat on the edge of her bed and held out his hand.
She took it.
The next morning, everything changed.
A raven arrived bearing a scroll sealed in black wax.
The message was short.
“Your omega lives. Return her, or war comes.”
— Alpha Kael, Blackfang Pack
The King’s eyes darkened.
“His arrogance has no bounds,” he said, crushing the letter in his fist.
Raina stared at the ashes as they fell. Her stomach turned.
“He’ll come for me,” she said.
The King looked at her. “Let him.”
That afternoon, she asked to speak before the royal council.
She stood tall in the marble chamber, wearing armor for the first time. Not silver or steel — but deep indigo leather embroidered with moon sigils. Her hair was braided back tightly. Her face was hard.
“I will not hide behind your soldiers,” she said. “If Kael wants war, let him come. But he will not find the girl he left in the forest.”
The council murmured. Shocked.
“She is dead,” Raina continued, voice shaking with fire. “I buried her myself.”
The King stepped forward and placed a hand on her shoulder.
“Then let them meet the woman who rose in her place.”
That night, the palace celebrated the Blood Moon — a rare celestial event believed to awaken hidden power in Lunaris-born wolves.
Raina stood on the highest balcony, dressed in deep crimson robes. The wind tangled her hair. Her skin buzzed with magic she didn’t fully understand.
She wasn’t alone.
The King joined her, silent for a long time before he finally spoke.
“You are more than prophecy now,” he said.
She looked at him. “What am I?”
He stepped closer, voice low. “You are a firestorm wearing the skin of a girl who was once told she was nothing.”
Raina felt her heart crack open.
No man had ever spoken to her like that. Not even Kael at his kindest. The King never treated her like something to be fixed — only something rising.
Their eyes met.
And for a moment, the world fell away.
She could feel his breath. The heat of his hand close to hers.
But he didn’t touch her.
He didn’t need to.
Her heart was already burning.
- Writer
